


black coffee in bed

by disgruntledkittenface



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: American AU, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Girl Direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 16:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18814441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkittenface/pseuds/disgruntledkittenface
Summary: The morning after a fight, Louis has to be the bigger person and apologize first.Shehatesbeing the bigger person.





	black coffee in bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [homosociallyyours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homosociallyyours/gifts).



> Happy birthday, [Megan](http://homosociallyyours.tumblr.com/)!!!! I saw your post about liking fics with girl direction, miscommunication and coffee shops and this... is not that, but I hope you like it anyway! I see how you treat people with kindness and respect and elevate the level of discourse in our fandom, and I want you to know I appreciate you. Happy birthday <3 
> 
> (unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine!!)

Louis smacks her lips as she wakes up, slowly realizing that something is wrong. No, scratch that. Everything is wrong.

There’s a foul taste in her mouth. Her neck is stiff from propping her head on a throw pillow all night. Her eyelids are practically glued shut with eye crusties. She was so drunk she slept in her jeans, for fuck’s sake, so she’s burning up.

Lifting a hand to rub at her eyes, Louis winces at the throbbing pain in her head and the hazy memories filtering into her mind from the night before. She doesn’t even remember what she and Harry had argued about, it had probably been over absolutely nothing, but neither of them had been in the mood to say sorry first so the fight had just escalated as the night went on. Flashes of Harry’s dark, pouty face mixed with images of herself taking shot after shot with Niall come flooding back and Louis groans.

What had ever made her think she could keep up with Niall of all people?

Louis manages to move into a sitting position on the couch, with her feet on the ground, without feeling like she’s going to throw up, so at least her hangover isn’t as vicious as it could be. Should be, if she’s honest. She rests her head against the back of the couch, working up the momentum to stand up.

God, she can’t believe she slept on the fucking couch. She must have been incredibly drunk or incredibly pissed off. More like incredibly stupid, Louis can admit to herself in the light of day. She’d have to be to give up sleeping with her girlfriend. Sharing a bed with Harry is as close to a religious experience as an agnostic like Louis could ever hope to get.

For one thing, Harry sleeps naked. Just miles of pale creamy skin on display to admire because she finds clothes too constricting at night, and because sometimes she can be a bit of a showoff. She radiates heat, so Louis almost never needs a comforter even though she tends to run cold. And Harry’s the best cuddler that Louis has ever met, a very demanding little spoon. Waking up with her is the best part, though. There’s just something about her soft skin, her natural scent, pliant and sleep warm and cozy, pliant in Louis’ arms. She can never find the right words to describe it; the closest she can get is simply “home.”

Louis groans. If Harry let her sleep out here by herself, there’s no way she’s going to crack first. Louis is going to have to be the bigger person, and Louis _hates_ being the bigger person. And Harry _knows_ that, but she’s just as stubborn as Louis is. It’s equally parts endearing and frustrating.

Louis finally stumbles to her feet, peeling off her jeans and kicking them away. She walks into their tiny kitchen and adds enough coffee and water to the machine for a full pot, jabbing at the button until the bright red light flashes on. After grabbing a bottle of water, she heads into the bathroom, noting the closed bedroom door at the end of the hallway.

She definitely has to be the bigger person this time. Fuck.

Louis is so tired when she walks in the bathroom, she almost starts to cry trying to figure what to do first. She sets the water bottle down on the counter, takes three deep breaths like Harry always coaches her to do, and remembers she desperately needs to pee, so she takes care of that first. Then she washes her face, thanking whatever deities that might be out there that she’d remembered to take her contacts out the night before. She hadn’t been so lucky with her makeup, so she ends up washing her face twice in an effort to get all the eyeliner smeared around her eyes off. Finally, she brushes her teeth and it’s as she spits out the last of the toothpaste and takes a long gulp of water that she realizes she’s starting to feel human again.

Thank god. Or whoever.

Louis pads down the hallway, reaching under her tank top to unhook her bra and wiggle out of it. It’s tempting to leave it on, Harry normally has a hard time resisting her in a black bra under white tank top, but she literally can’t spend another second with her boobs in this lacy prison after sleeping in it all night. How many shots could she and Niall have even done?

The offending garment falls to the floor in the hallway and Louis leaves it behind, making a beeline for the coffee machine and opening up the cabinet above it. She pushes past Harry’s collection of mugs with puns (“espresso patronum” is Louis’ favorite) to grab two plain white mugs from all the way at the back. Louis may have to be the bigger person this time, but she’s only human. She gets her French vanilla creamer from the fridge and pours it into her mug first; she has an exact, tried and true system for the perfect cup of coffee. Then she pours coffee into both mugs, Harry’s stark black next to her pleasing medium brown.

As Louis puts her creamer way and picks up the mugs, she shakes her head. Harry is so ridiculous, suddenly acting the past few months like she’s never liked milk in her coffee as if Louis hasn’t known her going on ten years now. They had their first lattes together in some pretentious coffeehouse in a hipster neighborhood back in high school. They’ve lived together since the first minute they could. Not only does Louis know her girl, her hopes and quirks and secret desires, she knows her routines down pat, there’s no fooling her. At least Harry’s not putting butter in her coffee anymore; that had been a very tense semester.

When she reaches the closed door at the end of the hallway, Louis hugs one of the mugs to her chest and taps on the door with her free hand before opening it and peeking her head in. Harry is lying in bed, face down on her side with the covers pushed down to her waist. Taking a moment to admire the expanse of her back – Harry has a great back, smooth and broad and muscled, Louis can get wet just from stroking a hand over the bare skin for too long – Louis quietly shuffles to set the mug of black coffee on Harry’s nightstand before perching on the edge of the mattress.

“Baby?” she says softly, cradling her cup of coffee with one hand in her lap and using the other to gently pat Harry’s wild tangle of curls.

“Mmph.” Harry burrows down in bed, smushing her face into pillow.

Louis shakes her head. Equal parts endearing and frustrating.

“Baby, I made coffee,” she tries, lightly scritching at Harry’s scalp and grinning when Harry pushes back into the touch. “Black, just the way you like it.”

Harry groans and turns over, rubbing at her eyes.

“Come on, baby, sit up,” Louis says, letting the firm tone she knows Harry loves slip into her voice. It works; Harry blushes and sits up against the headboard, cracking a small smile as she accepts the mug of coffee.

They sit in silence as they drink. Louis slurps her coffee obnoxiously, hoping to get a smile out of Harry, but she furrows her brow and refuses to make eye contact over her mug.

Well, then. If that’s how it’s going to be.

“Baby,” Louis says, looking down at her coffee. Fuck, she hates this. “I’m sorry. I am, I’m really sorry.”

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

A thrill zips down Louis’ spine at hearing Harry’s honeyed whiskey voice properly for the first time this morning. She’s loved this girl since she was sixteen years old, and somehow that tingle of excitement never goes away, never even dulls. She still wants to impress Harry, she wants to rile her up and tease her, she wants all of her attention all the time. And she still gets weak in the knees at the sound of that deep voice.

“No,” Louis admits, looking up to meet Harry’s gold-flecked green eyes. “I honestly don’t even remember what we were fighting about.”

Harry’s face is hard, no sign of the dimples that Louis loves to rest her fingertip in. She’s holding her sharp jaw tightly and her eyebrows are knit together. Louis starts to wonder if it wasn’t just some silly fight over nothing, if they had a real argument, if she fucked up somehow–

“Me either,” Harry says at last, her serious face breaking into giggles. She puts a hand up in defense as Louis squawks indignantly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I was only joking–”

“Harold Edward Styles, how very dare you,” Louis says, shaking her head and clucking her tongue. “You had me _worried–”_

“Lou,” Harry drawls, stretching the single syllable into easily half a dozen. “No, you never have to worry. There’s never going to be a fight we can’t work out in the end. I promise.”

Louis is in a weakened state; she’s hungover, her head hurts, she needs water but she’ll just be in the same amount of pain if she doesn’t drink her morning coffee too, and she missed out on cuddling a very naked Harry last night. It’s the only explanation for the tears that spring to her eyes.

“Louis,” Harry exclaims, sitting up and taking Louis’ mug out of her hands to set on her nightstand, along with her own. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

She shuffles into the center of their bed, tugging at Louis until she’s lying down next to her and cuddled up in her arms. Through the sudden onslaught of emotions, Louis registers how nice it feels to be the little spoon, enveloped in Harry’s warmth, her skin, her scent.

“Take three deep breaths for me.”

Louis can’t help smiling at the familiar words whispered into her ear, and complies, breathing in and out before twisting to lie on her back and look up at Harry’s concerned face.

“It’s nothing,” she says weakly. “Ignore me, I’m just hungover, or maybe still a little drunk, and you’re so pretty and I just missed you last night.”

“That’s not nothing,” Harry says, gently wiping away the few tears that have fallen to Louis’ cheeks before dropping a kiss to her forehead. “You sure you’re okay?”

“It’s just…” Louis lets out a shaky breath. “How do you know?”

“Know what, Lou?” Harry murmurs, toying with the strands of Louis’ short hair.

“Like… how do you know you can promise that?” Louis asks in a small voice, hating the sound of it.

“Louis,” Harry says, propping her chin in her hand. “I don’t know what’s, like, down the road for us or anything, but that’s the easiest promise I’ve ever made. I just… I just can. I know. Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Louis sniffles pathetically. “I do, I just… I’m tired and I hate being mad at you, and I hate sleeping on the couch and you know I hate being the bigger person, Harry, you _know_ it, how can you love me so much?”

“See, Lou?” Harry bends her head to kiss Louis’ forehead again. “We’re made for each other, I hate it too. You’re the only person in the world who can deal with how stubborn I am, and it’s because you’re just as bad.”

Louis smiles as Harry presses kisses all over her face, starting at her forehead and with no discernible pattern except for the way she’s avoiding Louis’ mouth. The one place Louis wants a kiss most.

“And this is how I know,” Harry says simply. “You do hate being the bigger person, but you did it anyway so we could have coffee in bed together. That’s how I know.”

“I did do that, didn’t I,” Louis murmurs. “I’m a good fucking person, Harry, you’re so lucky to–”

“There she is,” Harry exclaims, moving a hand down to tickle Louis’ ribs and making her shriek with laughter. “Feeling better, Lou?”

“Almost,” Louis says coyly. She drops her eyes to Harry’s lush pink lips, biting her own lip as Harry darts her tongue to wet them. She looks back to meet Harry’s suddenly intense gaze. “Can I kiss you?”

“Are you sure,” Harry mutters, bending her head incrementally closer. “Morning breath, then you add in coffee and–”

“I don’t fucking care,” Louis growls, lifting a hand to cup the back of Harry’s neck and pull her closer. “Can I kiss you?”

“Fuck yes you can.”

Louis swallows Harry’s words, licking into her mouth as need pools in her stomach. They’ve been together so long, she truly isn’t put off by Harry’s morning breath and she can’t get enough of Harry’s quiet whimpers and moans.

Louis keeps one hand firmly on Harry’s neck, keeping her close, and lets the other slide up her torso to cup at her bare breast. She tries teasing her, keeping the touch light, but Harry huffs indignantly and shifts to straddle Louis on the bed.

“Lou, fuck me,” she says against Louis’ lips before dipping her tongue into her mouth and massaging Louis’ with it.

Well, then. If that’s how it is.

Louis gives Harry’s ass a swift smack, jolting her closer as she gasps, and takes Harry’s breasts in her hands, squeezing lightly before thumbing at her dark pink nipples. She lets Harry control the kiss as she pinches the sensitive nubs, even as she gets sloppier as she gets more frantic with desire. God, Harry is so easy for having her tits played with, Louis could probably make her come from this alone.

But that’s something better left tested another day. Today she’s under orders to fuck her girlfriend, so that’s just what she’s going to do.

Louis is too impatient for any of their toys, so her fingers will have to do. She runs her tongue down Harry’s throat, pausing to nip at her favorite spot, and then shuffles down the bed a little as mouths at one of Harry’s frankly glorious tits, getting distracted from her plans for a heady moment. Finally, she moves one hand to grip Harry’s ass and the other to dip a finger into her pussy to confirm what she already knows: Harry is practically dripping wet.

“Lou,” Harry gasps above her. “Lou, _please,_ fuck me, I–”

The begging drives her crazy, Harry knows it always does, and Louis’ clit throbs as she slides a finger inside of Harry to rub at her spot. Nothing gets her off like getting Harry off, making her gasp and moan and shake until her body locks up and she cries out, sometimes screams, as her orgasm rips through her. Louis could almost come from that alone.

But again, a test better left to another day.

Harry moans wantonly above her, moving the hand that isn’t supporting her weight to pinch the nipple that Louis isn’t licking and biting. _Fuck,_ that’s hot. Harry’s never been embarrassed to ask for what she wants, never been embarrassed about what she wants, and Louis so lucky she could start crying again but instead she moves her thumb to circle Harry’s clit, drawing a low, loud moan from her.

Louis knows that moan, that means Harry’s already close. She falls back to the bed, concentrating on moving her finger and thumb just so, pressing down harder now, and Harry sits up straight on top of her, swaying slightly as she plays with both puffy nipples now. Her mouth is slack as a steady stream of moans escapes her, and she’s the most beautiful sight Louis has ever laid on eyes. Will ever lay eyes on.

She screws up her face, as if focusing on her pleasure, and Louis sees the moment the wave crashes over her just before she cries out, thrusting weakly to fuck down on Louis’ finger. She fucks Harry through it, easing up as the cries fade to whimpers. Harry takes a few deep breaths before opening her eyes and looking down at Louis. Her wide mouth stretches into a crooked grin.

“That was amazing,” she declares, moving off of Louis’ body to lie next to her. “Fucking amazing, I feel–”

“Amazing?” Louis asks, because she just can’t help herself.

“Amazing,” Harry agrees, too come drunk to be annoyed. “Can I fuck you now?”

“Yes,” Louis says, not bothering to hide the shiver that goes through her at the simple, bold request. “Yes, fuck me.”

For as eager as Harry had been to come, she slows down and takes her time with Louis, slowly pulling her tank top off and discarding her underwear, soaked through at this point, before feasting on her body. Her large hands are in constant, languorous motion, stroking all over Louis’ skin, squeezing and pinching just where and how she likes it. Her mouth can’t seem to make up its mind where it wants to be, traveling from Louis’ lips to her throat to her tits and back. Louis lies back and takes it, takes all of it, whatever Harry wants to give her and how, reveling in each loving touch, unable to think of anything except the pleasure Harry is giving her.

She’s lost track of the specific touches, eyes closed and out of her mind a little in the haze of it, so it takes her by surprise when Harry’s hands grip her thighs, parting them before she runs her tongue along Louis’ folds. Immediately it’s almost too much, so Louis grips the sheets, twisting the fabric in her hands to ground herself as Harry’s tongue dances on her clit. She bucks her hips, chasing the touch, desperate now for more, and Harry finally wraps her mouth around the nub and sucks hard, as she thrusts two fingers inside of Louis. Louis cries out, it’s perfect, it’s exactly how she likes to be fucked, hard but not rough.

All of the tension that’s slowly been building in her suddenly snaps and she can feel the gush of liquid as she comes in Harry’s mouth. Louis melts into the wrinkled sheets, completely spent as Harry licks around her and eases her fingers out. She pushes Harry away, knowing she’ll keep licking in hopes of going for another orgasm, even though Louis can never manage one right after the other, doesn’t enjoy the sensation of being overstimulated the way Harry does.

Harry crawls up Louis’ body as her chest heaves, trying to catch her breath, and she hovers over Louis, beatifically smiling down at her like some kind of patron saint of orgasms.

“Can I kiss you?” Louis whispers, sliding her thumb over Harry’s puffy, glistening lower lip.

“Are you sure?” Harry wrinkles her nose. “Morning breath, coffee, come–”

“I’m fucking sure,” Louis interrupts, cupping the back of her neck to pull her in. Maybe the mixture on Harry’s tongue should seem gross, but Louis can’t find a fuck to give at this particular moment, too busy pouring the surge of love she feels for this girl into kissing her lush lips.

They kiss slowly, lazily, until all Louis can taste on Harry’s tongue is herself. Harry’s the one to pull away first, reaching across Louis’ body to grab her coffee mug.

“Fuck,” Louis sighs, stretching her arms above her body. “I feel so much better, you’re like the best hangover cure.”

Harry hums happily, draining her mug.

“Stay here, Lou,” she commands softly, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before crawling over to get out of bed. “’S my turn to bring you coffee in bed.”

“Can you–”

“Inch of creamer first, then coffee,” Harry says, looking back over her shoulder as she reaches the door. “I know.”

“Thanks, baby!”

Harry pauses at the door and turns with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Like you’d ever know if I poured the coffee first and then added the creamer and then just stirred it,” she says, scrunching her nose fondly. “Honestly, Lou.”

“Harry! I have a _system!”_ Louis shouts after her as Harry pads down the hallway.

“I know!” Harry calls back. “And I love you anyway!”

Well, then. If that’s how it is... then Louis honestly doesn’t mind very much.

**Author's Note:**

> [ fic post](https://disgruntledkittenface.tumblr.com/post/184848677367/black-coffee-in-bed-by-disgruntledkittenface-the)


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